


White Room

by elentari7



Series: We are the heroes (of our time) [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 500-word limit, Loss of Powers, Sensory Deprivation, Well when I do at least, What happens when you have a SciFi creative writing assignment, and your head is filled with an increasingly dark superhero AU, apparently., power exploration, universe exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elentari7/pseuds/elentari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <em> where the shadows run from themselves </em> </p>
</div><div class="center">
  <p> ~Cream, 1968 </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	White Room

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sensory deprivation; implied self-harm (not detailed or graphic). Please see end notes for more detail.

You’d heard of sensory deprivation. The world shrunk to one room, no outlines or shadows to see, not the slightest sound to hear, no odor, no flavor, every nerve ending sealed off. The thought is enough to make anyone shudder. What do you become, when you’re nothing but a body suspended between four walls, floor, and ceiling? When you have no way to confirm the existence of walls, floor, or ceiling? No way to locate or confirm the existence of the body itself?

Your sensory deprivation chamber has no walls.

***

Some still call it superhuman, and talk about it like life’s a comic book. Others call it mutation, and lecture at length on brainwaves and neurons and genes. You know both camps are a little fascinated and a little afraid, unsure of how to categorize people like you. You never paid much attention to either approach to your ability. It’s simply who you are.

“You’ve got to be careful with that kind of thing, though,” Annie told you once. There are horror stories from the early days, before the nature and function of abilities were a subject of study, of people spending too long in one state and getting stuck.

You laughed. “It’s not like I’ve gotta live in fear of disappearing forever. I can’t do anything to other people’s perception.” You grinned and snatched a gnat out of the air by her ear, then let it go, not so much as bruised. “Just my own.”

Having your senses turned up all the time would actually be useful, you mused. You’d already felt your world expand tenfold since you started training and controlling your skill. If you could get stuck in that state, you might as well.

***

Some just call it NCP, and talk about it like a magical artifact. Others call it Neural Connectivity Pulse, and insist on the proper scientific terminology for cutting off abilities. You know both camps are sure it’s not debilitating, effective only within a limited radius and wearing off in a couple of weeks. You should probably have paid attention when they talked about neurons. It’s only negligence that put you within range of a pulse at all.

You don’t care.

You can’t navigate a couple of weeks like this. You don’t remember how you ever did. Back when you were limited to swatting the odd gnat, or saving your brother from a snakebite, or ducking the occasional punch—was the rest of the world always this dull? This flat? Bleeding, faded outlines, constant featureless white noise, faint odor, bland flavor, everything you touch wrapped in cotton (even the candle flames, even the steak knives).

The world is your sensory deprivation chamber, and you can’t find anything else in it, so how are you supposed to find yourself? How, in a couple of weeks, are you supposed to still exist?

 

**Author's Note:**

> MORE DETAIL: a character feels she is losing her mind due to the deadening of her senses and refers to purposely cutting/burning herself to try and get physical feeling back.
> 
> Those responsible for this fic are akitcougar and Professor Guy, and my own twisted mind.


End file.
